I Never Get Sick
by Lolsome-o-sis girl
Summary: Tom is sick and Lexi looks after him. Tom/Lexi ONESHOT.


**I Never Get Sick**

_Fandom: Wizards Vs Aliens_  
><em>Rating: T<em>  
><em>Genre: Romance<em>  
><em>Pairing: TomLexi_  
><em>Word count:<em> 1620

**Mild spoilers for 02x14**

_Summary: Tom is sick and Lexi looks after him. Tom/Lexi ONESHOT._

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><p>AN: I OWN NOTHING. Also published on AO3.<p>

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><p>"Are you sure there isn't anything else I can get you?" Michael asked, pity in his eyes, as he hovered in the doorway.<p>

"No," came the raspy reply from the bed, followed immediately by a round of coughing, and the sound of Tom blowing his nose for what was probably the fiftieth time in the past twenty minutes. "This sucks," he said a few moments later, dumping the used Kleenex into the already-overflowing bin Michael had placed by his bedside a few moments earlier, when it became clear that Tom couldn't aim properly when the bin was on the other side of the room. A collection of tissues still formed a ring around the space where the bin had been.

"If you're sure you don't want anything..."

"Yes, Dad!" Tom insisted, despite the ache in his throat. "I told you, I'm - ***COUGHCOUGHCOUGH*** - fine."

"Alright." Michael nodded. "You'll get better soon," he added after a moment. "These things don't usually last more than a week."

At this, Tom let out a groan, burying his head under his pillow; being bedridden for twenty-four hours was bad enough - being bedridden for the best part of a week was his worst nightmare. Luckily, his despair at being cooped up indoors was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell.

"I'll get that." Michael disappeared from the doorway; Tom pulled his head out from under the pillow to hear the sound of his father descending the stairs and going to the front door. For a few minutes, the only sound he heard was the hushed murmur of voices from downstairs in the hallway, broken only by another coughing fit.

"Tom?" His father was back at the door, looking disgruntled. His next words explained why, however. "Your gir-...Lexi's here to see you. Shall I let her in?" Michael still had a hard time admitting to others - and a harder time admitting to himself - that Lexi and his son were together; it probably had something to do with the fact that the former had often tried to eat their family. He clearly didn't like the idea of letting Lexi in, but Tom propped himself up on his elbow, reached for the glass of water beside his bed, and nodded in reply to his father's question.

"Let her in," he croaked out, making his father press his lips together in a tight line, and once again disappear from view (_probably off to sulk somewhere_, Tom thought), as light footsteps sounded on the landing, and Lexi ducked through the doorway, tiny drops of rain clinging to her coat, a plastic carrier bag bearing the Tesco logo under her arm.

"Tom?"

He offered up a weak smile. "Hey."

She seated herself at the foot of the bed, pulling off her boots, leaving them neatly by her tight-covered feet. "How are you feeling? You look awful."

"Thank you. I try my best." He freed another tissue from the box and blew his nose loudly, dumping it along with the others. "God, I feel like utter crap."

"I'm sure you'll live, dear."

"How do you know?" He mumbled, pulling the duvet up to his chin.

"I bought soup. Chicken noodle soup, to be precise. Temporarily speeds up the movement of mucus, possibly helping relieve congestion."

"You so got that off the internet."

"What are you insinuating, Tom? That Google was lying to me?" Tom smirked, entertained and touched by the image of Lexi sitting in front of a computer and googling something along the lines of **Nice things to do for sick people**. "So, do you want me to heat it up now or later?"

"Now would be pretty good. Thanks, love."

"Don't worry about it." She rose from her seat, rocking back on her heels. "Why else would I be here, if not to take care of you in your troubled times?"

"To laugh at me whilst I suffer through my pain?"

"As if I would!" She dropped a kiss on his forehead.

"Be careful. I don't want you getting what I've got."

"Relax. I never get sick," she grinned, and sauntered from the room. Fifteen minutes - and three sneezing fits from Tom - later, she returned with warm bowls of soup, complete with a glass of water and a handy tray for Tom.

"Take a long, last look at these bowls, Tom. Your father will probably try to burn them when he realises that I've been touching them," she remarked, sitting cross-legged on the floor.

"Shut up; you know he doesn't hate you that much." Tom rolled his eyes at the image of Michael trying in desperation to set alight his bowl with a lighter simply because it had his girlfriend's fingerprints on. "In fact, he doesn't even hate you."

"The look he gave me when I got here earlier says otherwise. It was like I'd just told him that I'd murdered a puppy on my way over here, and then dropped its dead carcass on his doorstep."

"He's just..." He tried to find the right word. "...adjusting. To be honest, I'm actually glad him and Gran are taking this so well."

Lexi nodded, scooping another spoonful from her bowl. "I don't blame them. It's not easy to get over something as awful as what I did." She stared down at her reflection in the soup, closing her eyes so briefly that it could almost be a long blink, before she cleared her throat and raised her gaze to look at him again. "Still, that's all in the past; I came to look after you today, not dwell in guilt over what I can't change." Her words were final, closing the subject. Tom only nodded, and took another mouthful. They rarely ever talked about "what had gone before" - as Lexi often called it - both of them unwilling to revisit the unpleasent memories from those days.

"What do you fancy doing this afternoon?" Lexi asked suddenly, breaking the silence between them.

"Not choking to death on my own breathing?"

She let out a chuckle, as she gathered up their empty bowls. "Besides that."

"A film sounds good. _Hunger Games_?"

"Yeah. _Hunger Games_," Lexi agreed. "I'll grab it on my way back." She disappeared from the room and returned a few minutes later, _The Hunger Games_ in her hand. She was about to sit back on the floor when she'd booted up the ancient DVD player, but Tom shuffled over and patted the space beside him, which she took with no argument.

"Can't have you sitting amongst all the tissues, love."

"Maybe I can pass on my healthy germs to make you feel better," she joked, as he rested his head on her shoulder.

"Or maybe I'll just pass my flu germs on to you." As if to make a point, he sniffled a little as he spoke.

"Relax. I don't get sick."

"So you keep saying."

"And so I keep meaning."

"If you say so." Tom simply squeezed her hand, as the opening music of _The Hunger Games_ played in the background.

He must have dropped off at some point, because, before he knew it, the film was paused at the end of the credits, the light filtering in from behind the curtains had gone, the water by his bed had been replaced, and his bedside lamp was switched on, casting dark shadows that loomed over the walls.

"Nice sleep?" Lexi asked, turning her attention away from the pages of the copy of _Jane Eyre_ that was resting on her lap.

"Lovely, thanks," he replied groggily, blinking up at her.

"You sniffled so much you were starting to remind me of a baby animal. It got quite cute after a while."

He drained his glass of water. Amazing how long periods of sleep made you thirsty. "Have you been here the entire time? What time is it?"

"Uh..." Lexi craned her neck round to look at the clock. "About...seven?"

"It's seven o'clock, and you're still here? Didn't you once tell me that life was too short to hang around places?"

Lexi raised an eyebrow. "Is that the polite way of telling me to piss off?"

"No, no! I was just -"

"Do you really think I would just leave you when you're sick, Tom?" She asked seriously.

It was a simple enough statement, but it made Tom smile brightly, despite his watery eyes and running nose.

"Love you."

"I love you too." Lexi placed the book onto the bedside table, and reached for her boots, which were still placed neatly on the floor where she'd left them. "I shall be back tomorrow." She paused suddenly, turning to look at him. "That is, if you want me back tomorrow -"

"Shut up. You know I'll always want you here." He wrapped his free arm around her. "You're family now." He started to move. "Don't let me breathe on you for long, or else -"

"Tom, I've been near you all day! I won't get sick! Look!" She grabbed hold of the sleeve of his shirt and collided her mouth with his, cutting off whatever he was about to say about how the flu virus was actually spread, and that she was human like the rest of them now, and so was perfect susceptible to these things. Not that any of that mattered in this precise moment. This lovely moment was ruined a few seconds later, however, as Tom broke away a few seconds later to cough violently into his pillow.

"You'll get sick if you keep doing that," he warned, grinning.

"I never get sick," Lexi replied breezily, pecking him on the forehead as a form of goodbye, before practically skipping out of the room.

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><p><strong>I like to think that, about a week later, Lexi does gets sick and Tom has to look after her. :) Because them caring for each other when the other is sick literally makes my world go round.<br>**


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